Once In A Blue Moon
by im-aggressive
Summary: WolfStar Coffee Shop/University AU: Remus Lupin is a barista working at the Blue Moon Coffee Co. Sirius Black, or "Padfoot" apparently, is the hot guy who keeps stopping in, and Remus is the asshole who keeps spelling his name wrong.


_A/N: Also posted on AO3 by RedLikeLithium4._

 _Warning: Swearing.  
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, I own this fanfic._

* * *

 **Once In A Blue Moon**

* * *

Remus Lupin started working at the Blue Moon Coffee Co. about five months ago. It's the longest he's kept a job so far, and it's also been his favorite yet. The cafe itself is only a little over 900 square feet, set on a corner of the urban downtown area. It's right across the street from the centre park, a neighbor to the public library, and a ten minute walk from the university. The parking is terrible - Remus rides his bike to work instead of driving - and rush hour is a wild adventure every time, but the employees are nice, the hours are good, and thick smell of coffee beans in the air is enough to make Remus feel at home.

He either cashiers or baristas throughout shifts, depending on where he's needed. Which is fine, because the job is to either greet customers with a smile on his face or keep busy by putting a little extra love into the drinks and pastries he makes. Though he thinks he may like cashiering a bit better - he's already burned more than few croissants, so it's better that he stays away from food. At least the drinks are easy.

The aesthetic of the Blue Moon Coffee Co. is another thing Remus likes. It undoubtedly has an indies vibe, which a lot of people would scoff at, but Remus thinks it feels warm and comfortable. The navy blue walls, the off-white trim, the starry decorations, the different portraits of the night sky to go with the name - it's all very cute and endearing.

But, like any job, it isn't perfect. The location is ideal, but it means the Blue Moon is swamped with customers day in and day out, 24/7. It keeps the baristas constantly on their toes, the cleanup is nothing to be desired, and the lines have, on more than one occasion, lead _out_ the door. It truly isn't for the faint of heart.

Lucky for Remus Lupin, he's a stubborn son of a bitch with decent social skills and the drive of being a poor college freshman to motivate his work ethic.

The biggest adjustment he's had to make, he thinks, is losing his perfectionism. Like everyone, Remus has made many mistakes, whether it be the burned croissants, counting the wrong amount of change, or forgetting to add an ingredient to a frappuccino and having to remake it. Mistakes are part of life, Remus has come to understand and begrudgingly accept. He has to learn from them rather than dwell on them. And he's gotten pretty good at doing exactly such.

That doesn't make mistakes any less embarrassing, though.

Like now, as Remus greets the next man in line. It's one of those Saturdays where the cafe is packed and the line is backed up to the entrance. Next to him, Alice Longbottom is manning the second cash register while three baristas work in a frenzy behind them. As usual on days like these, Remus opens up with, "Hi, sorry for the wait. What can I get for you?"

The man in front of him can't be any older than he is. He's thin with a good build, wearing a black, leather jacket and jeans. He has dark eyebrows settled over sharp, grey eyes. His hair is stupid - it's long, black, and obsessively combed through to the point of sleekness. Usually, Remus doesn't notice details about customers, but Remus also has a type: and grungy, maybe-emo, probably-drives-a-motorcycle bad boy is, unfortunately, _it_.

Tall, Dark, and Handsome's eyes snap down from the menu and he clears his throat. "What the fuck is a latte?"

Remus blinks at him. "It depends on if you want coffee or tea."

"Definitely tea. Coffee is the invention of Satan himself."

Remus blinks again. He happens to like coffee… "Then it's tea with steamed milk. It's hot and you can choose from chai or green."

The man nods profoundly, like he has just obtained some invaluable information. "Awesome. I'll take a large chai of that and a large house brew coffee." He grins. "For my friend," he adds.

Remus nods back. "That'll be eight ninety-eight."

The man already has his wallet out and he hands him a ten.

Once he has his change, Remus asks, "Can I get a name for the order?"

This is where Remus Lupin, not for the first time in his eighteen-and-three-quarter years of life, fucks up.

"Pad-" the rest is cut off by a lady shouting behind the man. The man, once he finishes saying the mess of sounds that had been his name, smirks and scurries away to the pickup counter to wait for his drinks.

Remus pauses. What he had heard was "Padlock", which makes no sense on Earth or anywhere else in the goddamn universe. Remus _knows_ he had heard wrong, but the woman in front of him is very impatiently glaring at him, so he writes "Padlock" on both cups in black, incriminating Sharpie and asks the new girl to switch places with him. Someone is going to call this guy's name wrong, so Remus may as well be the asshole to do it.

He does apologize to the new girl, Lily He-Can't-Remember-Her-Last-Name, for leaving her with the cranky, probably-suburban woman who had shoved "Padlock" out of the way. Thankfully, Lily seems to have a thick skin; instead of getting annoyed, she just smiles understandingly at him.

Remus is good at drinks. He has the coffee and chai latte done quickly. What makes him hesitate is the fluttering burn of embarrassment churning in his stomach. He sighs, sucks in a breath to replace it, and goes to the pickup counter.

"Padlock" is standing there, and Remus realizes that he's been saved from having to yell the wrong name. If he's literally _right here_ , Remus can hand him the drinks and disappear before the stranger reads what is scrawled on them.

Which is exactly what Remus does, except the man says, "Thanks!" and proceeds to curiously check the names on the cups to make sure they're his before Remus can scamper away.

The quick apology dies in his mouth when the man doubles over laughing.

"Oh, mate!" he says through what sounds like sobs. "PADLOCK! Oh fuck, that's _gold_." He straightens up, tears in his eyes, still laughing. "Oh, matey, your face is _red_!"

The heat in Remus's cheeks only gets hotter. "I'm so sorry, sir."

"What?" the man exclaims, pausing in his gut-laughter. "This is hilarious! Did I not speak clearly earlier? Because that's my bad, not yours."

Remus shakes his head. "Sorry, it _is_ very loud in here."

Speaking of which, there's still an unbelievably long line to attend to. He had briefly forgotten where he is and apologizes once more to the customer who, thankfully, is not offended.

He shrugs. "No need, man. It's _Padfoot_ , by the way."

"That isn't much better," Remus says before he can stop himself - it's his real personality slipping through his work façade - and he doesn't have time to apologize for the fourth time because Alice is screaming at him to get back to the register. "Have a good one!"

As he rushes away, he hears Padfoot (what the fuck kind of name is that?) laughing again.

.

.

Remus doesn't usually remember customers unless they're long-time regulars. Not only does he have the short-term memory of a fly, but he sees a thousand different faces every day, making it impossible to remember even a handful of them. Be it around the university, in the dorms, at the Blue Moon, or just on the streets, Remus is constantly surrounded by a blur of identities that he cannot be bothered to memorize.

What usually sticks in his long-term memory is family members, friends, people willing to catch him up on notes in classes that he misses, and the people he meets in the middle of a humiliating situation.

Most of the latter are customers at work.

Remus remembers Professor McGonagall not because he's spoken to her approximately one (1) time on campus, but because he handed her back two dollars in change instead of twelve. She had had to correct his mistake for him, and though she took it well, Remus has always feared the reactions of authority figures. It had been his first real mistake on the job, so obviously, he recalls it quite well.

He remembers Severus Snape not because he lives in the Slytherin dormitory, but because he had served him a caramel frappe instead of a green tea frappe. It had been a mixup of orders, but for such a quiet boy, Snape had made his crossness very known to Remus. He still ducks his head when they run into each other at school.

And of course, Remus remembers Padfoot.

Or "Padlock".

To be fair, Padfoot isn't an easy person to forget. Yes, he is certainly Remus's type, but he was also the first customer to laugh off one of Remus's slip-ups at work instead of just tolerating it or getting mad.

The next time Padfoot comes into the cafe, or at least during one of Remus's shifts, the morning rush is over and a serene quiet has fallen upon the building. There's an elderly man reading in the corner, Alice is sweeping the floor, and Remus is counting tips. It's only the two of them working now, and both look up to the bell of the door.

It's Padfoot, shaggy hair and broad shoulders and all that jazz, except he's wearing the trashiest, baggiest, red hoodie Remus has ever seen. It's like he rolled out of bed and stole clothes from the Jolly Red Giant.

Nonetheless, Tall, Possibly-Hungover, and Handsome grins widely at Remus as he swaggers up to the counter, leaning on it with one arm and crossing an ankle over the other in a classic Leans-On-Locker-To-Impress-The-Otherwise-Unimpressed-Girl pose. "What are the chances you'd put whipped cream on a chai latte?"

"For you?" Remus raises an eyebrow. "Two percent."

"Out of what, three?"

"Out of a hundred."

Padfoot drapes himself over the counter a little. "Truly tragic. My heart aches."

Remus smiles and shakes his head down at the cash register. "What size?"

"Extra, extra large. It's eleven AM, I haven't had breakfast, and I stayed up until 4 writing a paper. I have the class I'm going to fail in half an hour." He sighs dramatically. "So please, just fuck me up."

Remus stares at him. They don't even sell an extra, extra large. "One large chai tea latte with whipped cream and a side of antidepressants, coming up. That'll be $1.99."

Padfoot/"Padlock" grins at the joke, then frowns thoughtfully. "That can't be right."

"I'm giving you my employee discount," Remus says. "You look like hell, so I'm doing my good deed of the day."

"What's your name?" he asks, peering at Remus's name tag pinned to his apron. "Ree-muss? Remus. I could kiss you, my good man."

Remus laughs. "No problem. I'll have that out for you in a moment." He picks up a large cup. "Name for the order?" he asks automatically.

"Padlock."

Remus shoots him an unamused glance. The man smirks.

.

.

When Sirius Black strolls out of the Blue Moon Coffee Co., he's still losing his shit over "Paddywack" written in black marker and the ridiculous, heaping pile of whipping cream on his drink.

.

.

"Sirius, mate, this isn't your name," James tells him when they meet up outside the lecture hall. Sirius has already finished off the whipped cream and had offered his friend a sip.

James, however, instead of being grateful, insults Remus The Barista's handiwork like the git he is.

"I'll have you know, I legally changed it to 'Paddywack' last Tuesday," Sirius tells him. "Some friend you are. You're hardly updated on my life. Your mother will be so disappointed when I tell her. Even Pete cares more about my agenda than you! Isn't that right, Pete?" he says to Peter, who has just skittered up to them.

"Whatever this is, don't bring me into it, _please_ ," Peter says, dark circles under his eyes. Up all night, like the rest of them.

"See?" James says. "Peter doesn't care about you either, _Paddywack_." He takes a swig of the latte and hands it back to Sirius. "Thanks."

"Yup," Sirius says. "All right, gentlemen, let us enter the domain of the witchqueen, chins _up_ , shoulders _straight_ , and convince the Misses we did _not_ , in fact, finish her essay at the last possible minute last night."

James and Peter sag a little, then do their best to fix their postures, and follow Sirius into Professor McGonagall's English class.

.

.

Remus goes another week and a half without seeing any familiar faces barging into the cafe. Sure, he sees Alice - she's majoring in nursing - and her boyfriend Frank when he visits her. He sees Lily (Evans! Evans is her last name!) more often as she starts covering other shifts. They get along well, both having an affinity for literature and overall similar personalities and senses of humor.

Other than coworkers, that's about it. He sees his school friends at school, his dorm mate in the dorm, and his professors in lectures. It's all separate and comfortable.

It does get dull after a while, though.

But, Remus guesses, life is not dull when it's lived by whoever this magnificent bastard is by the name of Padfoot, Padlock, and Paddywack. When he makes his appearance again, it's a drizzly Friday night, and he's brought with him a laptop and a book-bag. He makes a show of setting his stuff down at a table by the window before getting in line behind a father and his two kids.

One of his coworkers, Gideon, takes care of the family's orders, leaving Remus to the man he has come to easily recognize in the two short times they've met.

Padfoot, as he's named himself because there's _no way_ his parents could have been so cruel, grins madly at him. "G'day, Remus," he nods at his name tag.

"You, too," he says back, voice a bit scratchy from using it all day. He's had three classes and is in the buttend of a twelve-hour shift and he's exhausted. Which is why his jaw actually drops when Padfoot recites his order.

"I'll have...a large, half-skim milk, one-quarter 2%, one-quarter non-fat, extra boiling hot, one and a half shots of decaf, one and a half shots of regular, no-foam latte, with extra whipped cream - at least twice as much as last time - with three packets of Splenda, one raw sugar, and a hint of vanilla with 3 shots of cinnamon."

Remus stares at him for a good minute. Then his real personality trumps his work personality. "What the fuck."

Padfoot tosses his head back and laughs a booming laugh that has the family of three looking over their shoulders as they exit. When he calms down, he says, "I'm kidding, I want a chai latte with whip. The usual."

"Did you...did you _memorize_ all of that just to fuck with me?"

"Yeah."

Remus is still staring and he shakes his head in amazement. "Impressive. That'll be $3.99."

"Aw damn, no employee discount?"

"Are you having a bad day?"

"Not particularly."

"Then no," Remus says.

"This is the end of our friendship," Padfoot says gravely. "It was nice while it lasted." He fishes a five dollar bill out of his wallet and hands it over. Remus gives him a dollar and a penny in change. Padfoots drops the penny into the tip jar and pockets his dollar.

"I will mourn the loss of you," Remus replies, picking up a new cup. "Take care out there in the world. It's time for you to be free and move on." He looks up. "Name for the order?"

"Padfoot," he says.

"Right," Remus says.

He writes "Paddleboard" and passes the cup to Gideon, who has watched their exchange with carefully masked confusion.

Padfoot laughs when he gets the drink and goes to sit where he's deposited his belongings. Remus watches him set up his laptop, plugging it into a nearby outlet. He pulls out a textbook, a red folder, a sheet of lined paper, and some writing utensils, spreading them out over the small, two-person table. Finally, out of the same book bag, he retrieves a half-eaten bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos, uncrumpling the folded part to eat a handful.

It is at this point that Remus has to stop watching him like the goddamn NSA because two new customers come in and he has something new to focus on.

(Something that _isn't_ a beautiful man eating Doritos like his life depends on them.)

The Blue Moon is a 24-hour establishment, so Remus's shifts tend to run late into the night. He's probably talked to his dorm roommate a grand total of five times in the seven months they've lived together simply because he's never home. And when Remus _is_ home, his roommate is usually out and about or asleep. They have a strange dynamic, but it works well enough.

Boy, what's the guy's name? _Peaton? Pierce? Peter?_ One of those.

Remus's shift ends at midnight. He doesn't always work so absurdly late, but he took the shift because he has no classes tomorrow. So here he is, at 11:45 PM, having just finished sweeping, now washing the windows.

And Padfoot-Padlock-Paddywack-Paddleboard is still fucking here.

Remus knows this because it's a small shop and he is trying to wash the window he is sitting in front of.

"Do you mind if I sneak in here?" Remus asks politely, motioning at the window with a bottle of Windex and an old rag.

Padfoot looks up and smiles tiredly. "Not at all. Do I need to move?"

"No, not if you don't want to," Remus tells him while pulling out the other chair. He stands on it and sprays the window. It's as he is wiping away the streaks that he notices Padfoot staring up at him.

"Do you go to Hogwarts?" the man asks.

Remus smiles. "I do. I'm majoring in teaching."

That gets a big, toothy grin out of Padfoot. "Really? Do you know what subject?"

"I've no idea yet," Remus says. "But I'm only in my first year, so I have some time to decide. How about you?"

"Engineering, right now," he replies.

Remus hops down from the chair and sets his supplies on it, running a hand through his hair. That had been the last window in the store. All that's left is the bathroom, and Remus would rather die than step foot in there - last night, there had been a man squatting in a stall rolling a blunt. So Remus elects to procrastinate for a few more minutes and make conversation with the hot guy.

"That's really cool," Remus tells him impotently. God, he's tired.

Padfoot nods blankly, apparently just as drained as he is. The leather of his jacket seems to weigh down his shoulders and his back is curved against the chair, slumping backwards and gazing dully at the computer screen. He looks at Remus and seems to light up, snatching his bag of Doritos and holding it out to him. "Want some? I'll bet you haven't had dinner yet."

"I haven't, but there's a McDonald's around the block I was gonna walk to in," Remus half-pulls out his phone to check the time, "eight minutes. But thank you."

Padfoot seems to recognize the dismissal for what it is and sets the bag down. "Your loss, pal. But Nacho Cheese is the gift of the gods. Prometheus gave us fire, and the rest of the lot gave us these," he pats the bag, crinkling it loudly.

"Prometheus was a titan," he says because he hasn't the heart to tell him he likes Cool Ranch better.

"And you're a nerd."

Remus laughs and starts to walk away, "I have to clean the bathrooms."

"Have fun, matey. Say hi to the meth-heads for me."

"Will do."

.

.

Remus hits up the McDonald's at 12:10 AM. This isn't the first time he's done this, and as expected, the world that is McDonald's at midnight is a surreal one. In the corner, a woman is crying wetly into her chicken sandwich. Two tables to the left, a teenager is doing homework and drinking a 48 ounce Icee from Circle K; there are three empty boxes of 20 piece McNuggets stacked next to them. Outside, a man is smoking a cigarette and listening to La Bamba without headphones.

He orders a burger and fries and stands there for a moment, staring at the middle-aged woman taking his order. She has bright, splotchy, blue lipstick on and Remus has to force himself not to squint at it.

"Can I have a Happy Meal, too?"

"I don't know, _can_ you?" the woman asks flatly.

Instead of saying " _May_ I?", Remus continues to stare at her until she sighs and gives in.

The trek back to the Blue Moon is a cold one. The chill of March is still nipping the air and Remus mentally slaps himself for the t-shirt he is wearing. The streets are full of puddles from the earlier rain and he maneuvers around them to keep his shoes dry. He hugs the takeout bags to his chest for warmth.

He walks back into the cafe and is both relieved and concerned to see Padfoot hasn't left yet; he's still typing away at his keyboard. "Have you any classes tomorrow?"

Padfoot jumps and looks up at him. "No, thank God. But if I don't finish this tonight, I never will."

"Fair enough," Remus says. "May I sit?"

Padfoot seems surprised, but he nods and Remus plops down across from him. He sets the Happy Meal on the yellow book bag, saying, "I didn't know what you like, but here."

"Oh!" says Padfoot, eyes widening. "Thank you. I, here, I have some cash-"

"No need," Remus says. "It's not like it was very expensive." He pulls out his burger and takes a giant bite out of it, muffling a groan because _shit_ , he was hungry.

"Thanks, Remus," Padfoot says, and there's honest-to-God gratefulness in his voice. It's still weird to hear a guy he's talked to three times say his name like they've been friends forever. But then again, it's also weird to buy a stranger a Happy Meal and eat together at 12:30 in the morning. Remus rolls his eyes at himself and sticks a fry between his teeth, staring out the window.

"Are you any good at English?" Padfoot asks suddenly.

"Yes," Remus says. "Do you need help?"

"Yeah," Padfoot sighs. "Unfortunately, I am illiterate."

Remus blinks. The joke doesn't register for a moment and Remus actually starts thinking of ways to teach this moron how to read. When he finally gets it, he laughs harder than he probably should and says, "Here, let me see."

By the time Padfoot finishes his assignment, it's 2:00 AM and Remus can't fucking see straight anymore. At one point, Alice walks in for her shift and stares at him with such disappointment in her eyes that he almost cries. He's so tired. Why does he feel like crying? Why isn't he already crying? He doesn't know why because he's so messed up. He's been awake since 6 AM yesterday.

Remus leaves first. Padfoot still has a couple of things to finish: proofreading, turning it in, and packing up. But Remus can't be here for another second. They wrap up the final question, say their "see you around's", Padfoot profusely thanks him again for the food, and Remus pats him clumsily on the shoulder on his way out.

He crashes in the Gryffindor dorm and smiles to himself as he falls asleep.

.

.

"What is this?" James asks him one afternoon.

"Well, clearly it's a list, Prongs," Sirius tells him from his bed. "I apologize for your failing vision. Do you need new glasses so soon?"

James makes a sarcastic face at him and reads the list. "Padlock, Paddywack, Paddleboard… Sirius, is this a list of all the times that guy has spelled your name wrong?"

"You have no appreciation for good comedy," Sirius sasses, jumping up to grab the list. James holds it out of reach, though. "Come on, Jamesy, they're funny and the man is attractive as all hell. Let me live."

"Fine, fine," relents James, handing over the sticky note. It had been stuck to Sirius's bed frame. "You really ought to show me this bloke someday, Pads. Poor guy seems mighty confused about what your name actually is."

"I say Padfoot every time I order anything. That way I don't have to explain that 'Yes, my name is Sirius. No, not Serious, _Sirius_ '. It's just easier for everyone." Sirius grins. "And of course, Love, s'only a ten minute walk. Three minutes on Elvendork."

"Are you giving me permission to ride your motorcycle?" James asks hopefully.

Sirius heaves a suffering sigh. "We're absolutely walking. The day you touch my bike is the day I've died."

"Harsh."

Sirius slips into his leather jacket and goes to find a pair of socks. "Let's go now! You can decide for yourself if he's cute."

"You're asking me, your straight friend, to approve of the man who bought you a Happy Meal half past midnight, who you've talked to a grand total of three times, who thinks your name is Paddleboard?" James smirks. "Okie dokie, let's go."

.

.

"Oh, God, it's you," Remus The Barista says when they walk in, his face completely deadpan.

"Wow," Sirius says, mimicking the expression on his face, "Good afternoon to you, too, Sunshine."

Remus glances at James and cracks a smile. "Who's your friend?"

Responding for him, Sirius beams and tightly wraps an arm around James' shoulders. "This is my buddy, Prongs."

Remus's eyebrows kind of furrow like he's puzzled, but he seems to accept that as an answer. "Pleasure," he says to James pleasantly. "A large chai latte, and what for you?"

"Large house brew, thanks," James chuckles, shoving Sirius off of him.

They pay and Remus asks, "Names for the order?"

"Padfoot."

"Prongs."

Remus shakes his head and scribbles away.

The night Sirius had shared here at the cafe with Remus happened about a week ago. He hasn't been back since now because not only is he pathetically poor, but he has been scared to make things awkward. He hardly knows Remus at all; the extent of his knowledge is that he has brown hair, he allegedly likes McDonalds, they go to the same university, he wants to be a teacher, and he works at the Blue Moon Coffee Co. All of that by itself is not nearly enough information to have a certified "crush" on the dude.

But Remus is Sirius's type without a hint of doubt: trash bag hipster with plenty of sarcasm to spare. Lanky, hard jawline, soft eyes, big smile - he's very, very pretty, and Sirius, truth be told, wants to marry him. _After_ getting to know him. If he has a good personality. Sirius has _standards_.

It's slow today - Sirius likes quieter cafes, bless - so Remus ends up making their drinks after ringing them up. Sirius talks to him while he's working. "So how are you today, Mr. Moony?"

"Mr. Moony?"

"Blue Moon Coffee. _Moon_. Mr. _Moony_. That's your name now," Sirius tells him.

"Last I checked, it was Remus, but whatever floats your boat," Remus laughs, handing the two of them their drinks.

"And last I checked," James says, eyebrows raising comically, "I told you 'Prongs', not ' _Pronoun'_."

"Oh my," Remus says, feigning genuine surprise. "Ah, well, silly me. I must have spelled it wrong."

Sirius belts out a laugh, reading his own cup. "How does ' _Pneumonia'_ sound anything like 'Padfoot'?"

"Sorry, I'm a little hard of hearing," Remus says, putting a hand over his heart to look more sincere. "It's a bit noisy in here. I _do_ apologize."

Sirius laughs again because it's certainly _not_ noisy in here at all and he and James say their goodbyes. On the way out, James hollers over Sirius's shoulder, "I like you! You're a funny lad!"

Remus smiles bewilderedly and Sirius shoves him out the door, the bell tinkling behind them.

.

.

Sunday, March 26th, 10:47 AM, marks the date and time of The Day The Coffee Creamer Machine Fucking Exploded.

Well, Remus supposes "exploded" is a somewhat dramatic word to use. The more accurate term would be "pissed all over the floor".

They have an old-fashioned coffee creamer machine set up behind the counter, with three flavors accessible by different levers. The thing is unnecessarily massive and Remus has had his fair share of fights with it. The levers are prone to getting stuck, and he's heard plenty of swear words slip out of Alice's mouth when drinks get spoiled from excess cream. For months, they've been trying to convince the manager to invest in a newer model, but so far, it's been in vain.

March 26th, however, may be the event to end all protests.

There's a high school couple that comes in and orders matching drinks, so to make it go by quicker, Remus and Lily He-Forgot-Her-Last-Name-Again each make one. They both want different creamers, though, so naturally, as Remus and Lily are pulling different levers, both of them get jammed.

As soon as Remus realizes his is stuck, he pushes up on it with all the strength his free arm has, but then Lily is panicking, saying, "Remus, it's stuck, it won't let up. Remus, _it won't let up_. REMUS."

The cups overflow at about the same second and at the sound of the creamer splattering on the tile, Alice turns around and starts cursing loudly.

"Son of a _bitch_!"

"What do I do?!" Lily yells, backing away from the growing puddle of milk.

Remus is still trying to un-stick one of the levers, but it's being stubborn and even he doesn't have the muscles to dislodge it.

Alice is screaming, Lily is waving her hands around like a disoriented bird, customers are staring, the couple who ordered the drinks in the first place have eyes wide as saucers, and Alice is _still fucking screaming._

Eventually, after an unhealthy amount of stress and unadulterated hysteria, they give up and ride out the storm. Everyone in the cafe watches, resigned, as the creamer drains from both of the machine's dispensers, flooding the floor behind the counter like a white pond. When the last of it splutters to the ground, the Blue Moon Coffee Co. is hushed and still.

In the aftermath, Alice is on the phone with the manager, Lily has leapt atop the counter to avoid the wet ground, and Remus is standing in the middle of Lake Cream. He frowns down at his soaked shoes and splattered pants and apron, arms hanging at his sides uselessly.

" _And_ I finished all over myself," he says dryly.

Someone starts clapping.

Remus and the rest of the store turn to stare at Padfoot, who continues the applause through the sudden attention, grinning from ear to ear. "Amazing, ladies and gentlemen."

"If you keep clapping," Remus says, "you're going to have to help clean up."

The clapping stops instantly.

.

.

Padfoot does, despite everyone's attempts to dissuade him, help them tidy things behind the counter. He isn't technically allowed back here, but three workers really aren't enough to drain the ocean of cream. After Alice tapes a lined sheet of paper with "Out of Order" in pink highlighter on the busted machine, she handles incoming customers, including the couple that never got their order, while the other three get to work with mops, rags, paper towels, and the enormous garbage bag they assign Padfoot to hold.

It all goes smoothly, after one interruption.

"Evans?!" Padfoot exclaims when he comes behind the counter.

Oh, well, that's her last name. Right. Remus really needs to get a handle on his short-term memory.

Lily's jaw tightens at the sight of him, but she quickly shrugs off whatever feeling it had been and rolls her eyes so far, they look as if they'll pop out. "Sirius. _Great_."

"You work here?" he asks, incredulous. "Oh boy, wait until I tell Prongs-"

"If you tell that fuckboy _anything_ , I'll shove this mop so far up your arse it'll come out your left nostril, Sirius Orion Black."

Remus and Padfoot - or Serious Orion Black, apparently - stare at her a moment before the latter smirks. "My lips are sealed."

"And sealed they shall stay," Lily threatens, "for fear getting splinters up your nose and colon." She starts mopping and Remus raises an eyebrow at him.

Serious Orion Black's smirk fades into a much nicer smile. "My best mate, James - you met him last time, we call him Prongs - has been pining for her all year. She really isn't a fan, unfortunately. She _adores_ me, though." He winks at her and she flips him off in a fashion that might be fondly.

"I see," Remus says while he turns to grabs a handful of rags. "Is your name really Serious?"

"Sirius, yes," says Padfoot. "Like the star, not the emotion. Padfoot is what my friends call me."

Remus smiles at him. "I suppose that makes us friends, doesn't it?"

Padfoot - _Sirius_ \- gazes at him, something like shock plastered all over his face. Remus flushes to the tips of his ears, embarrassed not for the first time in front of him.

Sirius nods happily. "Hell yeah, it does."

Remus can't help but grin, still standing in a sopping pile of creamer, arms full of rags, always beyond ecstatic to make a new friend.

When they finish, having done the best they can, Remus kicks Sirius out from behind the counter and ushers him over to the register. "Whatever you get, it's on the house for all the help."

"You don't need to do that-"

"Already done," Remus cuts him off briskly, picking up a large cup. "A chai latte with whip?"

"You know me so well. Thank you."

"Not a problem. Name for the order?" Remus asks reflexively, wondering which he'll use.

"Padfoot," he says matter-of-factly, hands in his pockets, hair brushed carefully away from his grey eyes. There's a playful smile toying the corners of his mouth and Remus tilts his head wistfully. Fuck, he's handsome. And so very out of his league.

He doesn't stay much longer, but it is enough for Remus. He can dream all he wants, but he knows that hoping to date someone he rarely ever sees, who he barely knows, is entirely unrealistic. It's fun to imagine, though.

Sirius laughs obnoxiously at his cup, reaches across the counter to clap Remus heartily on the shoulder, and dances out the door, ringing the bell on his way.

.

.

"Literally what is stopping you at this point?" James asks him that night.

The three of them are working on maths together. Sirius and James are in a higher class than Peter, who is visiting their room, but they help him when they can. Peter is sitting on the floor, James at a table, and Sirius on the sofa. Well, Sirius is laying down, belly first, half-napping rather than working. He's already three-fourths of the way done, so he's "taking a breather".

Sirius has to look up when Peter doesn't answer, meaning James was talking to _him_. "What?"

James glares at him over the rims of his glasses. "Have you heard a _word_ of what I've said in the past five minutes?"

Sirius blanks and Peter says, "I don't think he has, Prongs."

"Shut your cakehole, Peter," Sirius snaps, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. "What did you say that's so important, Jamesy?"

"I said you're ugly and an arse."

"Tell me something I don't know, _Deer_ ," Sirius says in the most sarcastically flattering voice he can muster.

James draws in a long breath, annoyed that he has to repeat himself. James has always hated repeating himself. "Here's the SparkNotes version, jackass: I approved of the coffee boy, the coffee boy seems to like you enough to put up with your otherwise unlikable personality, the coffee boy goes to our school, the coffee boy has a name almost as fucking stupid as yours so you'd be matching, and the coffee boy is cute as heck. Why aren't you asking him out?"

Sirius gapes at him. "Why is this _your_ business?"

"Because you made it my business by dragging me there. And you made it my business by talking about how hot he is all the time and making an actual list of the ways he's spelled your name wrong!"

"I'm not _that_ bad."

James leaps out of his chair and marches over to the lamp table next to the sofa. He picks up an empty Blue Moon cup and holds it out to show Sirius. "You went there today. _Again_."

"So what?"

"The guy wrote ' _Padre_ ' on your latte."

Sirius can't help but laugh. "Yeah, he's running out of ideas."

James painstakingly rolls his eyes at Peter, who shrugs and focuses back on his maths review. He sets the cup down and slaps his hands to the sides of his head. "Sirius, come on! The kid's obviously gay and at _least_ a little interested in you. I mean, what's not to like?"

"Aw, James, I'm blushing," Sirius says, fanning himself sarcastically.

"Well, your attitude sucks. It's a good thing you're kind of hot, because that's about all you've got going for you," James sighs.

"The moment's gone."

"Sirius, please. For all of our sakes, try asking him out. The worst he'll say is no."

Sirius frowns and looks away. "I know. But really, Prongs, I want to get to know him a little better before going there. Friends first, benefits second."

"Ew, Sirius, gross," James scowls, sitting back down. "But Pads, asking him out is the _way_ to get to know him. If you don't like him after the first date, you can stop everything right then and there. But you aren't going to get much further by stopping in at his work every few days." He picks up his pen. "Just think on it, all right?"

"Yeah, okay," Sirius says softly.

.

.

"Be forewarned," Lily (Evans!) says on a sunny Saturday afternoon, "I ran into your friend earlier and he said he's stopping by later today."

"Which friend?" Remus asks. He happens to have a few of those.

Lily cocks an eyebrow at him. "Sirius Black."

"Oh," Remus says. "I forgot you know him. And we've only met a few times."

"Really?" Lily muses, calling out the name of whoever ordered a macchiato. "The way you two interact, I thought you had known each other longer."

"How do you know him?"

"I went to the same high school as him," she explains, rinsing out a blender to make a frappe. "He's loud and overbearing, but he's a sweet guy. He's friends with some git who's been trying to hook up with me all year."

"Glasses?" Remus asks while already knowing the answer. "Calls himself some weird name that starts with a P?"

"Prongs," Lily says, jogging his, as usual, failure of a short-term memory. "They have a tight group of friends that gives each other really odd nicknames. His name is really James Potter and he's a prat-and-a-half, that one. They're all idiots. I like Sirius, though; we've bonded over astronomy and growing up with shitty parents."

Remus nods, handing a tiny woman a large iced tea. "That's...cool."

Lily laughs at him, standing away from the food and drinks to redo her hair, pulling the mass of red into a tighter bun. "He's gay, you know."

Remus almost drops the cup he just grabbed. "...Oh. That's interesting."

"Very much so, I think."

They stop talking after that because rush hour gets to be too much for conversation. Alice is barking orders, Gideon is anxious, Lily is still a bit inexperienced and frantic, Remus is tired like normal, and the manager is sitting in a booth with her husband, eyeing them all like a hawk. It's awful, maddening, and taxing - just another day at the office.

At the tail-end of the seemingly never-ending crowds, in walks Sirius Black.

Remus is in the middle of explaining the menu to an excruciatingly old woman with white hair and horribly thick bifocals. She keeps squinting at the chalk-print and asking about every little thing. In her shaky yet demanding voice, she asks, "What is 'Espresso con Panna'?"

She butchers the words so terribly that Remus has to translate it in his head before explaining the method of brewing to her.

"Ahh, thank you." Her eyes squint at something else. "What's the difference between a macchiato and a cappuccino?"

He's halfway through describing the second drink when he notices Sirius Black making his way over to the line and he momentarily gets distracted because, _This man,_ Remus thinks, _is a homosexual._

 _I, too, am a homosexual._

Eventually, the woman seems satisfied after Remus teaches her almost the entire menu. She ends up ordering a very basic Americano and he has to consciously stop himself from facepalming hard enough to leave a welt. He plays off his exasperation by smiling brightly and telling the ancient woman to have a good day.

There's only one person in line in front of Sirius by now, and Gideon takes care of her. So Remus is the one to greet Sirius, except he doesn't actually get the chance to do any greeting because Sirius says, "I love old people," after nodding at the woman at the pickup counter, then holds up a cell phone and shoves it in his face. "Look at this."

Remus stares at the picture, saved in a camera roll, for a good ten seconds. "Padfoot, what the fuck is this?"

"I thought you would appreciate a moon pun because your name is Moony and you work at the Blue Moon." Sirius looks at the picture and burst out laughing, eyes tearing up. "Do you get it, Remus? How does the moon cut his hair? _Eclipse it!_ It's a _pun_ , do you get it? Because it's fucking hysterical!"

Remus can't hold in his own laughter anymore. This guy has to be the single dumbest human being he's ever met. Only Sirius Orion Black would cry laughing over a badly edited meme. And he _is_ crying, now, because an actual tear is rolling down his cheek.

"Did you know," Sirius gasps, "that if you look up 'moon jokes' on Google Images...you get a picture of _eggs_?"

He steals his phone back, swipes right, and shows Remus the next photo, which is, in fact, of eggs.

"I really do worry about you," Remus tells him sincerely.

Sirius only laughs harder, slapping his hand on the counter for emphasis. "Why the _fuck_ are there _eggs_ in the moon-side of the internet? It doesn't make any sense!" He wipes the tears from his eyes and stands up straighter. "I'm running on three hours of sleep, let me have this."

"I would recommend coffee to wake you up," Remus says, "but if I recall correctly, you described it as 'invented by Satan'."

"If Satan could take a piss," Sirius says, all humor gone and forgotten, "coffee is what it would taste like. So, naturally, I'm here for the usual."

"What makes you think Satan can't piss?" Remus asks because he's actually curious.

Sirius gapes at him, then seems to consider it. "Well, he's Satan. Why would he _need_ to?"

"Are you implying that the Devil has no dick?"

"He's an angel! He doesn't have genitalia. I think...," Sirius frowns deeply. "Fuck, man, what if he _does_?"

"He obviously must," Remus says sagely. "Because without one, he wouldn't be able to piss, and without that, we wouldn't have coffee. Which would be sad, because I would then be jobless."

Sirius fucking laughs. "Moony The Barista, Number One Advocate of Marketing Satan's Piss."

Remus grins. "The Devil's Advocate! So, one large chai tea latte with whipped cream, coming up. That'll be $1.99."

"Ooh, employee discount?"

"Think of it as a thank you for the meme."

Sirius grins that wicked grin that Remus has come to appreciate. "You're a real one, Mr. Devil's Advocate."

Remus laughs and uncaps a Sharpie. "Name for the order?"

"Let's see if you can get it this time," Sirius says almost challengingly. "It's Padfoot. Pad. _Foot_. _Padfoot._ "

"Right, of course," mutters Remus while he writes.

He looks up to find Sirius Black smiling at him. He smiles back and takes a second to appreciate how devastatingly gorgeous this man is and how genuine his smile is. It's close-lipped and gentle and Remus realizes just how far he has fallen. He's almost angry at himself; Sirius Black is a temporary thing, someone he sees maybe once a week, twice if he's especially lucky. And it's definitely a crush at this point, but it's so _ludicrous_ to get so goddamn _excited_ when the equivalent of a stranger wanders in.

Yet in spite of the knowledge that this is completely futile, Remus treasures that smile and puts a little extra attention into making his latte.

And then he does something very, very stupid.

When he's done, he looks up to see Sirius staring down at his phone. He isn't paying attention to what Remus is doing, so Remus, being the thirsty whore that he apparently is, seizes the Sharpie again and inhales slowly to calm his out of control heart rate.

This is where Remus John "Moony" Lupin, once again, out of determination and a surge of impulsive bravery, fucks up.

He writes his phone number.

He gives the drink to Sirius before he can bail, who looks up, smiles that smile again, and plucks the cup from his hand. That thing that Remus reads about in book, where two people's fingers accidentally brush, happens, and instead of it feeling magical, he nearly has an aneurysm. There aren't any customers in line for Remus to dash over to, so he's stuck. Maybe if he interacts with Sirius enough, he won't notice what he's done.

Sirius reads the name on his drink and busts a fucking gut. " _Trenchfoot_?"

"Oh dear, was that not it?" Remus sighs. "Really, the noisiness of this place is getting out of hand."

Sirius, or "Trenchfoot", buckles and smacks his forehead against the counter, making Remus jump. A couple of people glance over judgmentally. Oblivious, he keeps laughing into the granite. "Moons, these get better every time!"

" _Tourists_ ," Alice growls when she walks by and Remus shrugs at her. Lily is watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Hi, Sirius," she says while rinsing out a blender.

Sirius peels his face off the counter and beams happily at her. "Afternoon, Evans. Did you see what Remus put for my name today?"

"I didn't, no."

Sirius spins the cup around to present the tragic misspelling of 'Padfoot' to her, and at the same second Remus's stomach lurches, Sirius's expression freezes. He blinks in surprise.

He's seen it.

Lily giggles and says, "Brilliant, Remus," before going back to ignoring them.

Remus wants to run away from the city and never look back.

Sirius takes a closer look at the latte, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and asks slowly, "Is this your _phone number_?"

"...It is," Remus says, coughing awkwardly and chewing the inside of his cheek. He can feel himself blushing furiously and he hates that he can't smother it behind a cool, collected mask - that's never been a strong suit of his.

Sirius nods, pursing his lips. After a long moment of silence, he smirks and lets out a loud cheer. "I got your number! I told James I could do it, the bastard. Wait, wait, while we're here, can I get your SnapChat?"

"Uhh, sure?"

"Great! Mine's padfoot420."

Remus rolls his eyes despite himself. "Of course it is." He takes out his phone, making sure his manager isn't secretly spying on him from God knows where, and searches the username. Lo and behold, there he is. He adds him and a second or two later, Sirius adds him back.

"Your username is remuslupin, that's so lame," Sirius says. "Is that your last name?"

"Yes. And at least it isn't padfoot420. What are you, a drug dealer? Should I take my number back to avoid being initiated into a drug gang?"

"Oh please, if I was in a drug gang, I'd be rich and coming to see you every day instead of weekly." He pauses and flushes red. "That is...I mean… In a not-creepy way..." He shakes his head. "I swear to all that is good and holy that I'm usually a lot smoother than this."

"Unrealistic. Blocked," Remus says jokingly, which lessens the tension in Sirius's shoulders. "If you were rich, I'd look forward to seeing you everyday."

They gaze at each other for a while, interrupted only by the bell of the tinkling and Alice shouting, "Remus, can you get this one?"

"You said you go to Hogwarts," Sirius says in a rush. "Do you live on campus?"

"Yes," Remus nods. "In Gryffindor."

Sirius grins so wide it appears painful. "Holy shit, that's my dorm. It's official. We _must_ be soulmates." The customer is staring at the menu now, and Sirius eyes them with contempt. "When does your shift end?"

"Five tonight."

"Can you meet me by the fountain after?"

Remus smiles. "I can and I will."

"Wonderful!" Sirius barks with delight. "I'll see you then, Moony."

"See you then. Bye, Trenchfoot." Remus runs to the customer, feeling his heart swell gleefully at the sound of Sirius sharp, joyful laughter.

.

.

Sirius goes to the fountain outside the Gryffindor dormitory early. He waits and taps at his phone, scrolling through his Instagram feed idly and flipping James and Peter off when he sees them peering through the window on the fourth floor. He sits on the edge of it, bouncing his knee in anticipation. He's nervous.

What if he doesn't show? What if he lied about being in Gryffindor? What if Sirius had come off too strong? What if Sirius was just being annoying the whole time? What if-

"Hello."

Sirius looks up and there's Remus The Barista, wearing a smile that makes his golden eyes crinkle and his cheeks lift in just the right way. His curly hair is a mess, combed through with his fingers, probably. He's wearing the white button-down from work, and he looks a little tired, but Sirius thinks he's the most handsome man in the school right then and there.

He stands, squares his shoulders, and goes to meet him.

It's an opportunity come once in a Blue Moon, and it's the best decision Sirius has made all year.


End file.
